For Pete's Sake
by Backstage
Summary: One-shot songfic. Fighter has always bewildered Spot Conlon. Is there any way he can get through to someone who's so much like him? (R&R!)


Here's one for my darlin' pal Fighter. *blows kisses* Enjoy this, baby! Hope we both got inspired! *wink*  
  
Song used is "For Pete's Sake" by Yellowcard, so they own themselves. *nods* And Fighter owns herself. Spot and the other newsies are owned by The Mouse. Yay!  
  
And away we go!  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
FOR PETE'S SAKE- A Spot and Fighter Songfic  
  
"Fighter!" I called after her, jogging on the rotting wood that was the pier beneath me.  
  
"Spot Conlon, I am NOT speaking to you." Fighter scowled at me, tossing her long honey blond hair over her shoulder tauntingly.  
  
Oh, here we go. "What did I do?!"  
  
"Don't give me that, okay? You know EXACTLY what you did. And I'm sick and tired of hearing you deny it!"  
  
I smirked. "Care to enlighten me then?" I folded my arms tightly across my chest.  
  
Fighter closed her eyes in exasperation. "For the absolutely LAST time, Conlon... I told you that if you went around cheating on girls, I'd take that cane and beat you to death with it!"  
  
"What?!" I couldn't help but laugh. It never failed to escape me why it was so important to Fighter to know exactly who I was dating. "For your information, I broke up with Mary-Anne two nights ago! Meaning I can do whatever I want."  
  
She paused. "You mean you WEREN'T cheating on her?"  
  
I scoffed. "Ch-YEAH."  
  
"So what WERE you doing?" Fighter was seriously showing no signs of going away. Not that I mattered all that much. Oh geez. Did I just say that?  
  
"That... is none of your business!" I retorted.  
  
"I make it my business to protect the other girls around here." Her electric blue eyes looked like they were blowtorches, ready to melt me down.  
  
"I was playing poker with the boys!" I screamed, exasperated. "What are you, my mother?!"  
  
I hate girls. Okay, so that's a real exaggeration. I'm probably the only newsie in New York that couldn't live without them. But then there are girls like Fighter. Girls like Fighter just live to make guys' lives miserable. But, for some unexplicable reason, I can't stop hanging around her. Would someone please like to explain that?  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
So I'm left wondering,   
  
there is so much left I wish that I could say to you   
  
Silence, I keep   
  
For fear of breaking myself down,   
  
and maybe getting through   
  
Getting through to you  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Just shut up, Spot." Fighter turned on her heel and prepared to walk away.  
  
I groaned and pressed my hat to the top of my head in irritation. "Fighter... would you mind calming down for a second?"  
  
She turned, and her blond hair whooshed around her shoulders as she spun. For a brief second I could have sworn Fighter's fierce blue eyes had softened their gaze.   
  
"Fine. What." She was still pretty icy.  
  
"I gotta ask you something or I'm gonna go nuts." I sat, making myself comfortable on the edge of the pier. "Sit?" I offered.  
  
Fighter remained standing. "I'll sit when I want to."  
  
"Fair enough." This was entirely a bad idea already. "I just don't know why you find yourself compelled to harass me all the time."  
  
For a brief second, I might have sworn Fighter looked contemplative. Yeah, contemplative. Spot Conlon DOES know a few ten dollar words, contrary to popular belief.  
  
"I don't like you taking advantage of other girls," she said after a second.  
  
I closed my eyes in exasperation. "Fighter. Have you ever stopped to think that I haven't done ANYTHING that you've ever accused me of?"  
  
"What are you talking about." She looked incredulous.  
  
"All those things you always said about me. Everything you accuse me of. None of it's ever been true." I almost smiled at her. "Don't you think it's kinda stupid to hate me for stuff that I've never done?"  
  
There was a really long pause. I was anticipating a crack across the face or something. I wouldn't put it past Fighter for even a second.  
  
She looked down at her the water below us, searching it for something invisible. "I don't hate you."  
  
"Well." I let a smirk play across my face. "That sure is good to know."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
For Pete's sake  
  
Let's see straight  
  
Clench your fist up in rage  
  
Hurts to know,  
  
We could throw  
  
All this time away  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Fighter looked like she regretted saying that, because a second later she was already eating her words. "I mean, just because I don't hate you doesn't mean I LIKE you or anything."  
  
"Of course not," I replied earnestly with an inner smile.  
  
"So... was that what you wanted to say?" She asked with a confused wrinkle of her nose.  
  
I shrugged. "Well, yeah, I guess."  
  
"So am I free to go now or what."  
  
I narrowed my eyes. "Hey, I thought we were past this..."  
  
"What, you thought I was kidding, Spot?" She gave me an amused smirk. Amused, probably, at my inability to figure her out. "I said that I didn't hate you. That doesn't mean I like you."  
  
Her statement actually hurt a little. I wanted to figure her out, but I guess there was no way that she would let me in. She was just too stubborn, didn't want to believe anyone's word but her own. Come to think of it, she was a whole lot like me.   
  
"So why don't you like me?" I challenged her. Fighter always hated it when I challenged her.  
  
She groaned. "Because," she said, like that was a suitable answer. Then, she added, "Because you're self-absorbed, self-concerned, stubborn person that won't listen to a word anyone else has to say!"  
  
"Funny." I stood up, leaning against a pole holding the pier together. "Because I happen to think the same way about you... but it doesn't mean I like you less."  
  
"You actually... Like me." Fighter gave me a look that said she didn't believe me at all.  
  
"Why not?" I said casually, trying not to let my true feelings show too much.  
  
She blinked at me, weakening the power of her powerful blue eyes, but only a little. "I don't know... give me a good reason why you like me."  
  
I grinned. "All right then."  
  
Okay, I have no idea what came over me right then, but I found myself leaning into Fighter, catching my lips softly against hers. Even when I imagined it in the past, it didn't seem half as perfect as the real thing. It was... wow. It was something else.  
  
So was the slap that she handed me.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Lets try and work it out  
  
Please don't be angry anymore,  
  
I'm on your side  
  
And I don't wanna fight  
  
Put this hate aside  
  
Get back to a place where you and I can still be friends  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Much to my surprise, Fighter's face immediately grew remorseful as she saw the red blotch of a handprint she stamped on my cheek.  
  
"Holy cow, Spot... I didn't mean it, I just-- wow." She looked at me and a snort escaped and transformed into a full-blown laugh.   
  
"It wasn't funny!" I retorted. The woman could hit like a baseball player.  
  
"Yeah, yeah it was." She grinned up at me and did the strangest thing afterwards: She kissed my cheek. "Hey, I'm sorry." A grin was still dancing on her lips.  
  
"What was that for?" I said, not being able to hold back a smile.  
  
"That was for my match." She smirked. "Only one person alive that I'd let kiss me like that. Congratulations."  
  
"Wanna go get some food or something?" I asked her after an awkward pause.  
  
"Er... yeah. Okay, we can do that."  
  
I hadn't seen Fighter smile that big since she kicked Racetrack in the East River five years ago.  
  
As we walked to nowhere in particular, my fingers reached to grasp her hand. Y'know what was really funny? She let me do it.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
And all the answers you're racing to find out  
  
They might outrun you in the end  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
THE END!! (please read and review!) 


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